


Black Ice

by honooko



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: F/M, Fay and Sakura are friends, Fay needs all the therapists, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honooko/pseuds/honooko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The group arrive in a world full of snow and ice, but something is wrong with Syaoran. Sakura wants to help him, but she's going to need Fay and Kurogane's help. Implied Syaoran/Sakura romance, hints of Kurogane/Fay. Fay 3rd person POV, non-canon timeline. Re-working of Hans Christian Anderson's "The Snow Queen".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Ice

**Author's Note:**

> My friend perfectworry reminded me that KuroFay exist and so I found myself in the incredibly frustrating position of having to write this. Many liberties were taken with the canon explanations and implications of Fay's magic because that stuff is complicated and I'm not even sure CLAMP knows what happened. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Also Big Kitty + Small Kitty bffs is my jam.

The first thing Fay noticed as Mokona’s traveling web dripped off was the soft, white flakes of snow. He exhaled and his breath left puffs in the air; it was close, too close to Celes. For half a heartbeat, he thought Mokona had made a mistake and brought them to the same place he’d paid to escape forever. But the sounds of people filtered through his ears and he felt his shoulders relax. 

“It’s-s-so c-c-old!” Sakura said, rubbing at her arms. Fay smiled at her sympathetically; while he’d grown up in cold places, she’d been born and raised in a desert. Syaoran took off his cloak and draped it over her shoulders; she smiled at him warmly in appreciation.

“We’ll have to get some warmer clothes, then,” Fay said. “Kuro-rin and I are fine, but not you two, right?” 

“Kurogane-san?” Syaoran asked the ninja. “Isn’t this cold?” The man shrugged, expression flat and unreadable.

“Nihon is hot in summer, cold in winter,” he said. “It doesn’t matter either way.” 

“Mokona wants to make a snowman!” the fluffy creature declared, waving its paws enthusiastically. It jumped to Fay’s shoulder and reached out to catch a snowflake as it fell. Everything smelled crisp and clean; the cold burned his lungs when he inhaled, a sharp ache that reminded him of other things, other times, other places.

_Fay._

“Let’s go find some coats!” Fay said brightly, leading the way out of the alley Mokona had dropped them in. The street was busy with people; there were sleighs everywhere, and children on skates glided around a frozen pond, laughing and twirling in delight. Fay put a hand on Sakura’s shivering shoulder and pointed at them.

“Sakura-chan, have you ever been ice skating?” She shook her head, eyes wide. “Let’s get some skates too and have some fun!”

“It looks a bit dangerous,” Syaoran said nervously. Kurogane looked over curiously, but his lack of reaction made Fay suspect it wasn’t new to him. Fay tried to picture a younger Kurogane, moving smoothly across the pond, but his mental image stuttered to halt when he tried to put a youthful smile on the boy’s face.

“It’s really not,” Fay assured him. “Don’t worry.”

“I’d like to try,” Sakura said softly, and Syaoran immediately straightened. 

“Okay,” he said, determined to please her. “Let’s try it.”

Fay scanned the area as they walked; most of the pathways had either been salted or stomped flat, to minimize falls. His boots gripped easily, but he was careful to keep Sakura on one arm. Her silk slippers would get wet and slippery quickly, so he made sure she could brace herself on him. The shops all had painted wooden signs hanging above the doors, so they found the tailor’s easily. It was a simple matter to outfit everyone properly; Fay needed nothing, but Syaoran and Sakura got fleece-lined coats, wool skirts and pants, and sturdy sheepskin boots. Sakura picked out some soft pink gloves and fluffy white ear muffs. She looked, as always, adorable. Syaoran looked at her with such softness it made Fay want to pat him warmly on the shoulder in encouragement, but he knew the price Syaoran had paid for this. It would only hurt him more to remember. There was such a bittersweetness in everything he did for her, it would have moved even the most rigid of hearts. Privately, Fay thought maybe the memories of their adventures would be enough to overcome the power of Syaoran’s wish. Only time would tell.

They also picked out skates, for children and adults, after being informed that without a sleigh, skates were by far the best way to get around. It seemed the city was divided by canals, all frozen over for the winter months.

“It’s getting dark,” Kurogane commented as they left the shop. Fay hummed his agreement; twilight fell fast in the winter, especially in northern countries. Celes didn’t show the sun for nearly four months of the year. Syaoran and Sakura looked up at the pink-and-purple sky. Suddenly, Syaoran flinched and dropped his head.

“Ah!” he said, covering his eye with one hand.

“Syaoran-kun?!” Sakura said, alarmed. She put a hand on his cheek to turn his head so she could see. “What happened?”

“Something fell in my eye,” he said, moving his hand. He tried to blink, but he winced and immediately tried to rub it out.

“A snowflake?” Kurogane suggested. “It’ll come out.”

“It felt sharp,” Syaoran protested. As he looked up, something very strange happened: his eye reflected, just a quick flash, like a cat’s eye. Fay was fairly certain he was the only one who saw it; no one else reacted to the refraction at all. Syaoran was quickly calming, blinking normally again without the flash of light. 

“Is everything alright?” Fay asked, masking his concern behind a light tone. Something must have twitched on his face however, because Kurogane looked at him sharply, his eyebrows snapping together so quickly Fay could have sworn he heard it. 

“I’m fine,” Syaoran said. He brushed Sakura’s hand away in a strangely dismissive gesture; she pulled her hand back against her chest, frowning just a tiny bit in confusion. Syaoran turned and started walking, jamming his hands in his pockets. Sakura briefly hesitated before trotting to catch up, walking beside him.

“Hm.”

“Kuro-pon?” Fay asked lightly, sensing a question in the grunt. For once, he didn’t respond to the nickname. Instead he turned to Fay, arms crossed and face serious.

“That seem normal to you?” he asked, nodding in Syaoran’s direction. Fay glanced at the boy’s back; he couldn’t be sure that Kurogane was referring to the same thing Fay had seen. He’d be relatively certain it was a magical effect, and there was no reason to think Kurogane had seen it.

“Which part?” Fay asked with a blithe smile. Kurogane looked at Syaoran, but didn’t respond. Fay let the conversation drop; he wasn’t about to bring up anything he’d seen so far. It was too soon, at any rate. It was probably nothing at all. They followed the two children in a comfortable silence, watching. Sakura had to continue to trot to keep up with Syaoran; he was walking in full, long-legged strides that she couldn’t match in heavy wool skirts. When she spoke to him, he nodded or shrugged in reply, never once turning to look at her face. As their walk continued, the scene playing out before them got stranger and stranger. Sakura placed a gloved hand on his shoulder that he immediately shrugged off; for a moment, she faltered, cheerful face falling. 

“Syaoran-kun?” they heard her ask, a hint of a wobble in her voice.

“What do you want?” he snapped back, looking at her for the first time. She recoiled, eyes wide in surprise. She took a step backwards, but it wasn’t a solid place and her feet slipped out from under her. Sakura was many things, but graceful was not one of them. It was completely normal for her to wobble around and Syaoran to catch her.

To the surprise of everyone watching, he let her hit the ground without once reaching out. His hands never left his pockets and his face as she fell was completely blank and impassive. Then he turned his back to her and continued walking. Mokona gasped in shock.

“Syaoran!” the creature called, dismay in its voice.

“ _Hey_ ,” Kurogane barked at Syaoran, but the boy didn’t stop. Kurogane marched after him, catching him by the collar and yanking him aside. Syaoran met his eyes defiantly, drawing another growl from the ninja.

Fay immediately moved forward to help Sakura to her feet; tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes, but she scrubbed them away quickly and turned a grateful smile to Fay. He was always impressed with Sakura’s cheer; unlike his, hers was usually genuine positivity. She looked at things with an optimistic bravery he admired. But as she took his hands and carefully got to her feet, Fay knew without needing ask that something was wrong. She pressed her face to his chest, trying to hide the tears that were already returning. Fay gently put a hand to her hair, letting her fall apart for a moment while still shielded by his body.

“I’m sorry,” she said into his coat. “I’m being silly.”

“Not at all,” Fay assured her softly. “That wasn’t nice of Syaoran; it’s okay to be upset.”

“Fay?” Mokona asked. “Why was Syaoran mean?”

“He’s not mean!” Sakura protested immediately, lifting her face to speak to Mokona. “Something—something is wrong!” 

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out, Sakura-chan. Please don’t worry,” Fay said, turning a genuine smile to her. She returned it, even if it was a little shaky at the corners. Turning around to see where Kurogane and Syaoran had gone, he was surprised to see Kurogane still holding the boy by the collar. He wasn’t shouting, but he was clearly angry, and Syaoran was just as clearly ignoring it all. Frustrated, Kurogane shook him once like a dog with a rabbit, but Syaoran just glared at him in moody silence. Finally the ninja released him, pushing him back towards Fay and Sakura. Sakura reached for Fay’s hand, squeezing it as Syaoran got closer.

“Sorry,” Syaoran said flatly. He absolutely did not mean it; regardless, Sakura smiled at him.

“It’s fine!” she said brightly. “I’ll walk more carefully, so I don’t bother you again!”

“Fine,” Syaoran said in that same eerily emotionless tone. He turned around immediately and started walking away. Sakura maintained her grip on Fay’s hand, and he made no effort to dislodge it. Kurogane was watching the entire conversation, his face darkening when Syaoran’s less-than-sincere apology came and went. He met Fay’s eyes.

_That seem normal to you?_

Fay shook his head, allowing a serious expression to flit across his face just long enough to let the other man see. He knew exactly what Kurogane had meant now. Something was absolutely wrong.

The rest of the walk to the hotel, everyone was eerily silent. Sakura maintained her hold on Fay, making no attempts to keep up with Syaoran anymore. Mokona had jumped to her arms and was snuggling its face into her coat, more than happy to be squeezed for comfort. Kurogane walked next to Syaoran, glancing at him regularly. Syaoran seemed unaware he was being watched at all, sullenly stomping through the snow without once looking around. They arrived at the hotel with a cloud of gloom hanging over them all; when they asked for two rooms, as usual, Sakura looked at Syaoran once before turning back to Fay.

“Fay-san?” she asked quietly. He bent to listen to her. “Could I… could I share with you today?”

Fay flicked his gaze up once, towards Kurogane. 

“Of course, Sakura-chan,” he said, pitching his voice loud enough for the ninja to hear. “I’m sure Kuro-sama won’t mind sharing with Syaoran-kun this time.” Another flicked glance, and Kurogane nodded once, agreeing.

“Wai!” Mokona chirped brightly from Sakura’s arms. “Big Kitty and Little Kitty’s room!” Sakura giggled; the sound loosened something that had twisted in Fay’s heart. 

“Big Puppy and Little Puppy’s room too,” he reminded the creature.

“Don’t call me that.”

Fay’s head jerked up; Kurogane looked just as surprised as him. The ninja hadn’t made a complaint; it was voiced by an increasingly agitated-looking Syaoran. 

“It’s a stupid nickname,” he said. “Just forget it already.”

Sakura crumpled. Mokona leaped to her defense, shouting from its place in her arms.

“Mean!” it declared. “Syaoran is being mean to Sakura! Don’t be a bully!”

“It’s her fault she’s so sensitive then,” Syaoran snapped back. “Grow up!”

“Mean! Mean mean mean!”

“Mokona-chan, please stop,” Sakura said. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her head was dropped until her chin was on her chest. “Syaoran-kun is right, I’m too sensitive. It’s just a silly name. We should stop using it.” She looked up at Fay; the desperation in her eyes broke his heart. “Right, Fay-san? Then Syaoran-kun won’t be annoyed.”

“If that’s what Sakura-chan wants,” he told her. She didn’t seem to have noticed the tears falling from her eyes, so he fished out a handkerchief and gave it to her. Mokona was huffing and puffing, clearly barely restraining itself. Kurogane had locked his gaze on Syaoran, and Fay realized that underneath the top layer of anger was a more subtle layer of concern. This was strange; they’d never seen or heard Syaoran act this way. It didn’t matter how tired he was, or sick, or hurt; he never lashed out, especially at Sakura. Every face he ever turned to her was one of unrestrained adoration and care. The boy in front of them now was a complete stranger.

“Let’s get in the rooms,” Kurogane said after the heavy silence hung for a moment. Fay nodded, carefully guiding Sakura with a hand between her shoulders. Mokona had taken the handkerchief and was wiping her face with its little white paws, murmuring soft reassurances. 

The rooms connected by a door; the first thing Syaoran did when he entered the room he’d be sharing with Kurogane was lock it. Sakura collapsed on a bed, burying her face in a pillow. Fay removed his coat and gloves, hanging the coat on a hanger before going to the bed and sitting on the duvet beside her.

“Sakura-chan?” he said gently, “You should take off your coat now. And your ear muffs, don’t you think?”

“Why?” she mumbled into the pillow.

“Well, it’s very warm in here,” Fay said reasonably. “I think you’ll get hot if you don’t take them off.”

“Why is he different?” she said, still face down. “What did I do?”

Carefully, Fay pulled the earmuffs off her head and handed them to Mokona. Placing a hand on her head, he stroked her hair gently, humming to himself as he thought.

“I don’t think it’s Sakura-chan’s fault,” he said. “Syaoran-kun is just… not feeling well. Maybe his stomach hurts, so he’s in a bad mood. But he’ll be okay. Everything will be fine soon.”

“Kurogane will find him some medicine!” Mokona supplied. “Big Puppy to the rescue!” 

“I’m sure if Sakura-chan keeps showing her smile to him, he’ll feel much better!” Fay added, patting her back. She rolled over and sat up, scrubbing at her eyes. She picked up Mokona, putting the fluffy animal in her lap.

“I’m sorry Moko-chan,” she said, smiling. “You and Fay-san are right, I’m just—tired, I think.” 

“Well, let’s get some rest then, shall we?” Fay suggested. “But first, you really should take off your coat. We don’t want you to melt into a Sakura-puddle after all.” She giggled at that, taking his advice and shedding her coat, gloves, scarf, and boots. Coming back to the bed, she sat on it and bounced slightly, smiling up at Fay.

“Thank you Fay-san, Moko-chan,” she said warmly. “I feel better now.”

They had dinner brought up; Sakura didn’t each much, but she ate enough to satisfy Fay and Mokona both. They chatted about unimportant things; Fay told her some folk stores from Celes, and she told him some from Clow Country. Soon she was sleepy, so she curled up beneath the blankets, arms around a snoring Mokona. Once he was sure she was soundly asleep, Fay moved to the door linking their rooms. Silently, he tested the knob; it was unlocked. He pushed it open just enough to stick his head into the darkened room. Kurogane was leaning against the wall, just beside the doorframe. He looked up; Fay jerked his head in the direction of the hallway outside their rooms. He nodded, and Fay pulled back and shut the door.

Kurogane’s face when they met in the hallway was pure bile.

“He’s being a little shit,” Kurogane said unceremoniously as soon as both doors were closed. “Won’t apologize, won’t admit he was being a little shit, nothing. I’d knock his head in if I thought it would help.” As if he was slightly unwilling to admit he cared, he added quietly, “How’s the princess?”

“Heartbroken,” Fay said honestly. “She’s trying to be brave, but it’s obvious she’s really hurting.”

“No surprise,” Kurogane growled. “Considering.”

“Did you…” Fay started before faltering. Kurogane spotted his hesitation.

“Did I?”

“…Did you see his eye?” Fay said cautiously, watching Kurogane for a reaction. The ninja remained neutral, but he shifted his body weight from one foot to the other. It wasn’t much of a signal, but it was enough.

“Not the blind one,” Kurogane said. “It… flashed.”

“Reflected,” Fay said. “Like a cat.”

“So he’s possessed by a fucking cat?” Kurogane said incredulously.

“Of course not,” Fay said, “but that was when it started, wasn’t it? Something in his eye, then… he changed.”

“So in the morning, we’ll look more closely,” Kurogane said, putting together a plan immediately. “Ask around. See if this happens a lot here.” He paused for a moment before asking, “Is it magic?”

“Mm,” Fay said noncommittally. “Maybe. It’s hard to say, with how little we know. After tomorrow, we’ll have a better idea of what the problem is.”

“Sleep on it, then?”

“Like a little baby Kuro-pi,” Fay said with a grin. “Snoring away!” Realizing Fay was done being serious, Kurogane snorted and pushed himself off the wall, heading back into the room.

“I don’t snore,” he shot back over his shoulder. “I—what the fuck?”

The alarm in his tone was enough to have Fay crossing the space between them in a single leap. Looking over the ninja’s shoulder, he noticed immediately what the problem was: Syaoran’s bed was empty, and the window was wide open.

“Oh dear,” Fay said. “This is going to be a bit harder than we thought.”

“Stay with the princess,” Kurogane growled, grabbing his cloak off the hook near the door. “I’ll find the damn kid. And I’ll make him sorry for taking off in the first place.” He was gone before Fay could even wish him luck. Creeping back into the room he was sharing with Sakura, he was surprised to find her sitting up in bed, blinking sleepily.

“Fay-san?” she said. “Is something wrong?”

He debated telling her. It would make her worry, but lying to her… he was surprised to find that Sakura’s trust wasn’t something he wanted to risk just now. Later. It would all go to pieces sooner or later; that was just the way his life was destined to always go. But for now, he wanted to be someone she trusted. Fay sat next to her on the bed again.

“Syaoran-kun is gone,” Fay said simply. “Kuro-wan and I were talking, and he went out the window.”

“Out the window?” she said with a gasp. “Why?”

“We don’t know yet,” Fay said. Mokona pushed its way into Sakura’s hands. “Kurogane is going to look for him.”

“…I’ll wait.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll wait for him to come back,” Sakura said softly. “Then I’ll go back to sleep. If Syaoran-kun can’t sleep, then I’ll just—wait. We can be awake together.”

Fay looked at the girl and wished there was something more he could do for her, but it was clear she wasn’t going to get any more rest. Fay sighed, sitting on the bed properly, with his back against the headboard. Sakura sat up beside him, leaning against his arm; he lifted it so she could tip and lean over against his torso; it was much more comfortable for both of them. Mokona was playing with her fingers between its paws.

“I miss him,” she said quietly.

“I know,” Fay said. “And Syaoran-kun knows too. He’ll come back soon. You’re someone special to him, after all. He’ll come back to your smile.”

They stayed that way as the long night stretched on, waiting for the orange glow at the edge of the curtains to signal that dawn had come. Fay kept one ear out for Kurogane’s return; somewhere just after the sun began to rise, the ninja came into the room. He looked at the pair of them and turned away. Fay knew he hated giving Sakura bad news.

“Any luck?” Fay said.

“Some leads, but—nothing solid. Not yet.”

“Thank you for trying, Kurogane-san,” Sakura said, turning her grateful smile on him. He bowed his head once, awkwardly, before heading towards the door that joined the rooms. Just before he closed it, he not-quite looked at her.

“You should get some rest, Princess,” he told her. “Tomorrow will be long.” He closed the door before she had a chance to reply; Fay was quietly tickled by the ninja’s shyness around the girl. Kurogane had mentioned once or twice that his master in Nihon was a princess; she must have reminded him of home.

Despite Kurogane’s advice, Sakura was too upset to sleep. Instead, she rose when Fay did, as the sun fully crossed the horizon. They took turns washing, eating a simple breakfast in silence with Kurogane before pulling on their winter layers and heading out to brave the day. Sakura had a serious expression on her face and a determined set to her shoulders, resolute with her fluffy white earmuffs on and Mokona balanced in her arms. Kurogane was marching a few steps ahead, absorbing the sights and looking for danger. Fay was more focused on taking solid steps; the path was icy and he had no intentions of slipping. Sakura was paying less attention however; the first slippery patch she stepped on sent her flying backwards, arms wheeling. Fay deftly caught her shoulders and lifted her back up onto her feet.

“Watch your step, Sakura-chan,” he said. “There’s a lot of ice out here.”  
She blushed, but nodded, resettling Mokona in her grasp and marching forwards again. Abruptly Kurogane whipped his cloak out in front of her as a sleigh went by; it sent a wave of icy slush flying towards them, slopping against the cloak but leaving Sakura dry.

“Ah,” Sakura said, surprised. “Thank you Kurogane-san!”

“Woo, Kuro-wan is such a good escort!” Fay teased. Mokona clapped its paws delighted, but the ninja seemed determined to continue as if nothing strange had happened. This determination was somewhat foiled when a woman a block away from them screamed. 

“The queen!” she wailed. “She came last night!” Several people immediately ran to her side; they leaned in close, whispering urgently and glancing around themselves nervously. As Kurogane, Sakura, and Fay approached, the hushed discussions became more audible.

“She’s early this year,” one woman hissed. “We should have had another month at least.”

“More are going with her, too,” one man added. “This is what, seven now? Eight?”

“Nine,” another woman comtributed. “She took twins last week.”

“That damn glass,” the first woman said, tears running down her face. “I knew he was acting odd; I knew it! I thought he was just being moody, but—oh, what should I do?”

“There’s nothing to be done,” the man said with deep resignation, “not without following them. Even if you found them, how would you get the glass out?”

“I don’t know!” the woman shrieked. “I’d lock him up in the house at least!”

“Excuse me,” Fay said as he smoothly inserted himself into the group, “Did you say something about glass?” He pictured the glint of light off of Syaoran’s eye, and the cold disconnected expression as he watched Sakura fall. The man looked at him through narrowed eyes before cautiously speaking.

“You lot foreigners?” he asked, nodding. Sakura had come to Fay’s right elbow and Kurogane was lurking to his left. Fay smiled.

“Something like that,” Fay said noncommittally. “But the glass?” The man scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head.

“A few years ago, our children started acting strange in the winter. They’d turn sullen and angry. Even the sweetest little ones went sour. We asked the Witch what was wrong with them, and she told us about the mirror.” Fay said nothing, waiting for the man to continue. Kurogane shifted his weight to be slightly more imposing and the man hurriedly began speaking again. “There was a mirror, an evil one. But it shattered in the sky, into the snow clouds. During the winter, when it snows, the glass falls down on them. It freezes their hearts. Once they’re frozen, the Snow Queen comes and collects them. She doesn’t even have to steal them away—they follow her willingly, because she’s so beautiful.”

“You’ve seen the Snow Queen then?” Fay asked, tilting his head. The man shook his head. 

“Not me, no. But a few of us have, late at night when she comes. The children sense her; most people run away, but the frozen ones flock to her. The climb in her sleigh and she takes them away to her palace. Wherever that is.”

Fay looked at Kurogane; the ninja was already looking at him, searching. They didn’t have to confer. It was quite obvious to both of them what had happened to Syaoran, as well as where he’d disappeared to. 

“Do they ever come back?” Sakura interrupted softly. She was staring at her feet, her hair hiding her face.

“Never,” the man said. The woman whose child was gone wept onto the shoulder of the other woman, but all of them seemed absolutely certain: once the Snow Queen took them, they never came returned. Sakura didn’t look up; she simply turned on her heel and began to walk away. Fay started after her, but Kurogane got there first. He blocked her path, tall, solid, and frowning. Sakura finally lifted her head to show burning determination on her sweet face. Her eyes glowed with resolve.

“Going somewhere?” Kurogane said.

“Syaoran-kun was taken by a queen,” Sakura said.

“It sounds like that’s the case,” Fay said, strolling up to them.

“I’m a princess,” Sakura said firmly. “Maybe I’m not as strong as a queen, but—I can try, can’t I?”

Kurogane blinked at her, seemingly surprised. It was a rare expression on him that Fay rather liked. He covered his smile with one hand.

“Sakura-hime is right,” he said. “She’s got a better chance than anyone to overcome a queen.” Kurogane shot him a dark look.

“An evil queen,” he reminded them. “One that takes kids and keeps them forever.”

“Not forever!” Sakura protested. “We can—I can save him!” For a moment, Fay thought he may have to throw his support behind to her to talk Kurogane around, but the ninja shook his head and stepped back. He turned his face, hiding his reaction from them both. 

“If you say so, Princess,” he said, and once again Fay got the distinct impression that Kurogane was not entirely talking about Sakura. The girl held Mokona up in front of her.

“Moko-chan,” she said, “Do you have any way to tell us which direction Syaoran went?” The fluffy creature hummed, unsure, but waved its little paws and tried to sound positive.

“Mokona will try!” it told the girl. “For Sakura!”

“And for Syaoran,” Sakura said firmly. “He needs our help now.”

“Well,” Mokona said, “Maybe he’s up that mountain!” It pointed towards the sky; just behind the low-hanging grey clouds laden with snow, a brilliant white peak stood out starkly from a mass of evergreens. Fay had to admit, as a potential location for an ice palace, it looked like a good start. Sakura immediately began moving towards it, taking large and quick steps. It wasn’t difficult for the taller men to follow her at a more normal pace. Kurogane dropped back to walk next to Fay; the wizard suspected he had something to say that he’d rather Sakura not hear.

“Not much of a plan here,” Kurogane commented. Fay hummed, his gloved hands in his pockets. He wasn’t wrong; the most they had to go on was a vague direction and even more vague description of a woman who may or may not have stolen their companion away, possibly with his full consent. It was clear at least why he’d been behaving so oddly: somehow, that evil mirror shard must have taken him over. Fay turned the problems over in his mind: the way he saw it, they had a few problems. First, they had to find the palace. Next, they had to find Syaoran. Finally, they had to figure out how to cure him of the strange curse. 

“It would be much easier if we could just follow her,” Fay pointed out. Kurogane said nothing for a moment before quietly speaking again.

“We could,” he said. “We’d just have to fake it.”

Fay raised an eyebrow at him.

“We?” he said just as quietly. “She takes children, remember? Sakura-chan would have to do it.”

“They never said only children are affected,” he pointed out. “It’s just the children that they notice. When an adult turns cold and bitter, nobody really thinks anything of it. Same with disappearing. When someone you hate disappears, who really gives a shit?”

Fay had to admit he had a point. If one of them could pretend to be caught instead of Sakura, it would definitely be a safer plan. Fay had his doubts that Sakura could convincingly be anything but sweetness and light. Evidently, Kurogane had similar doubts. As if sensing their hesitance, Sakura abruptly turned around to face them. Her normally soft expression was serious, her eyes blazing. She looked fierce; she looked royal. Kurogane stiffened next to him, clearly feeling the change in her as much as Fay was. 

“Fay-san. Kurogane-san.”

“Sakura-hime?” Fay said.

“I know you’re making plans without me,” she informed them both. “I want—I want to know too. I can help.”

“Sakura—“ Fay began, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

“I’m sorry Fay-san, but no. You have to include me. We need everyone to save Syaoran-kun. That’s you, Kurogane-san, and me. Ah, and Moko-chan,” she added, petting the creature on the head. Fay looked at her; it was hard to divorce his mind of the Sakura he’d first met: clumsy, dazed, sleepy, and vulnerable. The girl in front of him now was different—she was more. She wasn’t a victim, or a pawn. 

Unlike him.

“Princess,” Kurogane said seriously, his deep voice carrying significant weight. “This is dangerous. We don’t know what we’re getting into. There’s no reason to put yourself at risk.” Sakura shook her head, setting her shoulders in a determined line.

“Syaoran-kun is always helping me,” she said. “Every one of you helps me. I know I’m not much good for most things, like fighting or keeping us safe. But I want to be someone who helps her friends.” She dropped her head, meeting eyes with Mokona. “I’m tired of being useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Kurogane said, causing Fay to turn his head sharply. “You wouldn’t be here if you were useless.” Kurogane soundly deeply sincere, and the effect it had on Sakura was immediate: she lifted her face again, meeting the ninja’s eyes and holding his gaze. She was smiling at him, clearly pleased with his rarely-given praise.

“Kuro-pon’s right,” Fay said with a smile. “Syaoran-kun needs you to give him strength. That’s important.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “But I still want to help.” Fay was ready to deliberate on the topic for a while more, but Kurogane answered without so much as a pause.

“We need a plan,” he told the girl seriously. She nodded, equally serious. The pair of them looked almost comical from the outside: the tall, dark, dangerous-looking man with a sword, talking with the slender, cute, earmuffed girl. Fay was once again quietly surprised by the ninja; he’d shown a level of care with Syaoran, one that increasingly surpassed a simple teacher-student relationship. It was interesting to see him treat Sakura in much the same manner: someone to protect, but not someone to deceive or dismiss. Sakura would never wield a sword, but he spoke to her like she might be able to do something of equal importance. 

Who was his princess? Who taught him to treat young women with the respect due to equals?

“We thought it might be easier to follow the Snow Queen, rather than blindly search for her,” Fay said, inserting himself into the discussion smoothly. “Someone would pretend to be cursed with the glass, then when she comes at night to collect them, they would just follow.

“I can do it,” Sakura said immediately.

“Can you?” Kurogane said. “This would be more than just faking a bad mood. You’d have to keep it up for a long time, and we couldn’t be very close to you until you got into the palace she goes to.”

“I have to lie, right?” she said. “I have to pretend to be—like Syaoran-kun was.”

“That’s the shape of it, yeah.”

“Then...” she looked up at Fay. “Fay-san can teach me.” For a moment, Fay felt nothing but pure alarm. He’d been careful; he’d hidden everything. He never let that expression slip in front of her, had he? Mokona had seen it, but Mokona saw everything. When had he ever given Sakura reason to doubt him?

Was his fear showing on his face right now?

He threw on a bright smile, stronger than it needed to be, but big enough to feel somewhat safe behind. Sakura did have a point in that out of the three of them, Fay was hands-down the most talented liar. He’d hoped she hadn’t noticed it, but it seemed that ship had sailed. It didn’t mean she knew _everything_ , so he wasn’t going to let up on the disguised faces, but he could probably at least admit to knowing how to do it. He glanced sideways and caught Kurogane looking at him in what could only be called a smug manner. He was waiting to see if Fay would try and duck out of it. He was waiting for another lie.

“If that’s what Sakura-chan wants,” Fay said, earning himself a surprised flicker across Kurogane’s face. “We’ll need someplace quiet to practice though. Ah, Kuro-wan should come too!” He reached out one long, gloved finger to tap Kurogane on the nose, dancing out of the way of the ninja’s lunge. “Careful, it’s not as easy as I make it look!”

“Yay!” Mokona said, bouncing in Sakura’s arms. “Teacher-Fay! Teach Mokona too!”

“Isn’t that one of your special skills already?” Fay asked, still hopping from foot to foot and dodging Kurogane’s half-hearted swings. They rarely played like this anymore; it seemed like they’d agreed without ever really talking about it that neither of them took it seriously anymore (or that Fay ever had.) The idea of laying his secrets out in front of anyone still filled him with terror, but he reminded himself that wasn’t exactly what would be happening. The method, sure. The reasons?

Never.

“Yes! But Mokona wants to learn from Fay too!” Fay leaped deftly over a patch of black ice half a second before realizing Kurogane would be too busy chasing him to watch his feet. Fay pivoted on his left foot, turning to—do what? Call out a warning? Catch him? His right foot, thrown out to plant on the ground, gave as it hit another patch of ice. He threw out an arm in a vain hope of regaining balance.

Kurogane caught him, in a slightly rough version of a waltz dip. His heart started hammering in his chest; it wasn’t so long ago that Kurogane would have let him hit the ground. Instead, he set Fay back on his feet as Mokona and Sakura both clapped their paws and hands together. Fay wasn’t fast enough to mask his surprise; Kurogane crooked an eyebrow at him, clearly wondering if Fay had actually been foolish enough to think that he would fall. His hand lingered on Fay’s elbow, despite there being no reason to continue to offer him balance.

“Thanks,” Fay said, turning his head to hide his slight embarrassment. The hand dropped away. 

“If you break your neck, I’m going to be the one stuck carrying your sorry ass,” Kurogane said, but the statement lacked much heat. Mokona gave a dramatic sigh.

“Kurogane is worried about Fay!” it declared. “Mokona wants Kurogane to catch me too!” The white fluff immediately launched itself from Sakura’s arms to Kurogane’s face. “Dip me, dip me!” it demanded as Kurogane attempted to pry it off. Taking pity on him, Fay grabbed Mokona by its scruff and pulled it back.

“Mokona, he can’t breathe if you cover his nose _and_ mouth,” Fay pointed out reasonably. The creature sighed its disappointment, but nodded. Sakura took it back in her arms. Fay stretched his arms up over his head, willing the anxious twist in his stomach to flow up and out from his fingertips. He then put on hand on Sakura’s shoulder with his usual smile settled safely back in place. 

“Let’s find some place to work,” he said. She nodded her head vigorously in agreement.

“We might as well go back to the hotel then,” Kurogane pointed out. “They’d probably let us as long as we booked for another night.”

“If we take turns sleeping, we’ll only need one room,” Fay said. “We can save a little money too.” With that agreed, they made their way back to hotel; if the clerk was surprised to see them again, she hid it well and handed over their key without comment. It wasn’t the same room they’d been in, but it was essentially the same except for one key difference: there was one bed, not two. Fay didn’t need to ask Kurogane to know that they’d both be sleeping on the floor. Sakura recognized the situation immediately and whirled around.

“I’m sorry!” she said. “I’ll take a turn too, so everyone can sleep in it—“

“Don’t bother,” Kurogane said gruffly. “We’ve slept on worse than a floor.”

“But—“

“It’s fine, Sakura-chan,” Fay reassured her. “Let’s worry about it later, okay? We need to practice now anyway.” She still seemed unsure, but Fay was already helping her out of her coat and earmuffs, hanging everything on the coat rack in the corner. Kurogane deposited his as well before standing near the door. Fay added his own white coat to the stack. Once that was done, he sat on the bed cross-legged and patted next to him for Sakura to join. She sat and pulled her feet into a tailor’s seat under her skirts, looking at him with her full attention. Mokona devoted itself to jumping on the pillows and giggling madly.

“Now, the first thing about lying is—“

“I’m going out,” Kurogane said abruptly, snatching his coat back. Fay and Sakura looked at him in surprise. Kurogane wouldn’t meet their eyes; he simply left, the door shutting loudly behind him.

“That was strange,” Fay said after a moment. 

“Fay-san!” Sakura said suddenly, putting a hand on his knee. “What if the glass got Kurogane-san too, and—“

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” Fay said, smiling. “He’s probably just hungry.”

“If you say so,” Sakura said, still looking unsure, but ready to trust him. She always trusted him like that: easily. It seemed like she never even thought to doubt or question him. As flattered as he was, he couldn’t help but feel that her trust was horrifically misplaced. He was absolutely the last person in their group she should ever trust.

“Right, what was I saying? Oh, yes. Lying. Well, it’s... it’s easiest to just convince yourself that what you’re saying is true. If you believe it, it’s not hard to make others believe it too,” Fay began.

“But I know it’s not true,” Sakura said.

“Do you?” Fay asked, tilting his head at her, smile fixed in place. “Are you sure? Can you be 100% certain that everything you’re saying is absolutely and without question true?” She looked at him with just the smallest hint of confusion.

“I... guess... not?” she said. Fay nodded.

“Of course you can’t. It’s impossible. No one can ever be sure of everything,” Fay pointed out. “If you think of it like that, we’re all lying, all the time.”

_Especially me._

Sakura looked particularly unsettled by the idea; Fay patted her hand.

“Sakura-chan, you can change your mind,” he said. “You don’t have to do all this if you’d rather not. It’s—not easy to think about things this way.”

“But you do it, don’t you?” Sakura said softly. “All the time. Except—“ Her sudden pause drew his attention.

“Except?”

“Fay-san, sometimes... You look so sad,” she said, looking at him with her piercing moss-green eyes. “You look like you don’t know how to be happy anymore.”

Fay couldn’t look at her anymore; he put his hands behind him and leaned back, turning his face to the ceiling. When had she seen it? When had his edges come untucked? When had this girl started watching him closely enough to see the moments when his glass fractured? What would she say if she learned he hadn’t even told them his name?

“I have to do this,” Fay said at last. “I can’t stop.”

“Not ever?”

_Fay._

“No.”

“I have to do this too,” Sakura said. “For Syaoran-kun. So please, Fay-san. Let’s continue.”

It was the sweetest of reasons, born of deep gratitude and affection. It was so beyond anything Fay remembered how to feel. Fay wondered if maybe, just for a little while, he could let his edges show. When he looked at her again, he’d let the ever-present smile fall, the mask of happiness he’d been taught by a little girl in Celes. Just for a while, he’d tell as much of the truth as he had in him to give.

“If that’s what you want,” he said at last. The sympathy in her eyes was almost too much to bear; he straightened up again. Mokona had come to sit near Sakura’s knee, its attention rapt. Fay couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing her a disservice teaching her this, but what choice did they really have? If he refused, she’d only be hurt more.

“Your biggest problem will be your facial expressions. You’re very sincere, and it shows constantly. Even when you force a smile now and then—no, don’t deny it, I understand it—it’s not hard to understand how you’re really feeling. Hiding your feelings is going to be the most important part. Anyone can make up a story or speak a lie; it’s your face that will give you away first. You have to practice putting your feelings somewhere where no one can see them.”

Sakura nodded seriously. She was clearly bound and determined to learn this, and he owed it to her to do a good job of it. 

“Shall we try?” Fay suggested. 

“What should I do?”

“I’ll ask you some things; try to keep your face neutral. If I can tell what you’re really feeling, I’ll say it.”

“Okay,” Sakura said firmly. “Let’s do it.”

“Is Mokona cute?” Fay asked, poking the creature with a long finger. Sakura’s mouth tightened, withholding a smile. Fay could see it, but it was a passable expression. He continued. “Do you miss your family in your world?” Her mouth turned down a fraction at the corners, and her eyes softened as she turned her gaze. The sadness was far too explicit.

“That’s no good,” Fay said gently. “I can see it. Don’t break eye contact unless you absolutely must.” She turned back to him; this time, her face was an even, flat expression that betrayed nothing. She’d forced the sadness from her eyes.

“Are you worried about Syaoran-kun?”

“No,” she said, almost defiant. “He’s—he’s mean. I don’t miss him at all.” It was a bold-faced lie, but her tone was as icy as he’d ever heard. It sent a mild shiver down his spine; hearing her voice that way was deeply unsettling. Mokona said nothing, but she looked at Fay with clear disapproval.

“That was good,” Fay told her. “The glass made him mean and cold. If you can sound that way, people who don’t know you well will believe it. Try saying some other things.”

“I... I think this is all stupid,” she began. The words began to tumble from her mouth in a rush. “Everyone here—none of them matter to me at all. I want to just go home and forget this whole journey. I don’t even care about the feathers. I don’t remember things—so what? If I just go home I can make new ones. Everyone says they want to help me, but I don’t _want_ their help. Just—leave me alone.”

Fay stared at her in unmasked horror. She’d been unflinchingly cruel, her face never once flickering and giving away her true thoughts. Just as he was starting to regret this entire training, her entire façade crumbled. She covered her face with her hands.

“That was awful,” she mumbled through her fingers. 

“Sakura, don’t cry!” Mokona said, patting her knee with its paws. “You did really well! Mokona believed you!”

“Mokona is right,” Fay said, putting his hand on her head. “You did that very well. It’s okay to hate it; you’re not supposed to enjoy it. Lying is painful, especially when it’s something important to you.”

“Why do you lie, then?” Sakura asked, looking up at him. The tear tracks on her face made him feel unspeakably guilty; she wiped them away quickly with a handkerchief Mokona summoned from her jewel. Fay looked away, knowing he wouldn’t be able to convince her if she could see him clearly.

“I lie because I don’t know what else to do.”

_Fay falling, skinny and bleeding as he hits the ground. Ashura-o holding out a hand, not to push him, but to save him. The little girl dead in the street. The only face that had ever been kind to him demanding death, more death, death he could never escape._

Sakura wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.

“I won’t ask anymore,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how much it hurts.”

He didn’t deserve this girl’s kindness, but he was surprised how much he wanted it.

“Thank you, Sakura-chan,” he said, putting his smile back on and pulling everything back in tightly, wearing his lies like a shield. Sakura released him and sat back. Mokona climbed into her lap and reached out a paw to touch Fay’s arm.

“It’s okay, Fay,” it said. “We’re your friends! We don’t want to hurt you.”

“Someday, I hope you can tell us,” Sakura said, a gentle smile gracing her face. “Until then, don’t worry.”

Sakura’s stomach growled loudly, breaking the increasingly serious tension; Fay laughed as Sakura looked sheepish. Mokona started bouncing around the bed again, singing “Food! Food! Food!” over and over again until Fay stood up.

“I’ll find us some dinner,” Fay said. “Stay put.” Sakura nodded at his instructions, picking up Mokona to throw it up into the air to its delighted squeals and giggles. Fay pulled on the coat and went out into the hallway; he nearly ran into Kurogane. The ninja was leaning on the wall with his arms crossed.

“Kuro-sama, you’ve been out here? You could have come inside,” Fay commented. Kurogane snorted, shaking his head.

“And listen to you fill her head with your bullshit? No thanks.”

“Ouch. Kuro-pon is so cruel. Is that really what you think of me?” Kurogane looked up, meeting his eyes squarely.

“You think she’s the only one that notices when you do that?” His gaze was firm, unsympathetic, but not cold. He was just making a general observation, but it still made Fay squirm uncomfortably. He really needed to stop this, before it was too late—he was doomed to destroy everything he cared about. Sakura wasn’t the only one in danger.

“Such an active imagination!” Fay declared, turning away. “I’m impressed.” Kurogane reached out a hand and grabbed Fay’s arm roughly enough to pull him backwards.

“Stop it,” he growled. “Just stop. I don’t care. Whatever it is, I don’t give a shit.” 

It was too much, too soon. He’d just let himself show the smallest fraction to Sakura before putting it all back on lockdown; to have Kurogane looking through him like that and demanding Fay open up again was more than he could tolerate in one day. Where he’d never be able to get angry at Sakura, he found an icy fury to throw at Kurogane. He jerked his arm free, meeting those all-too-knowing eyes with his own.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fay said, leaving no room for argument. “If you don’t care, then let it go.” Kurogane stared at him for a moment longer before turning away.

“Are you getting food?”

“That was the idea,” Fay said, walking away as he spoke. He assumed Kurogane would stay behind; when the ninja pushed off the wall to walk beside him, Fay refused to turn his head. He was going to do his damnedest to pretend he was alone—more alone that he already was, at least. Kurogane seemed fine with the silence; he kept pace without comment. They headed out on to the streets; darkness had fallen already, and the lights high up on poles cast spots of brightness every few meters. The ice was invisible in the darkness, requiring them to slow their pace somewhat. Fay scanned the shopfronts, looking for anything that resembled a restaurant or grocery. Every so often people glided past them on the frozen channels, smooth and quick on their skates. Small bells attached to hats or scarves jingled as they few by, but the sound was slightly muffled by the snow that had begun to fall again, collecting on branches and flat surfaces. Every flake that fell brought back memories of Celes that Fay had hoped to never think about again. The crispness of the air, the crunch of snow under boots, the way even darkness was slightly lighter as the snow reflected whatever light hit it—his jaw was clenched so tightly he felt an ache beginning to radiate down his neck.

The peaceful atmosphere was disturbed by the sound of very large, loud bells coming down the nearest canal. The last few people skating scattered, disappearing into the darkness throwing nervous looks over their shoulders. A strong, bone-cold wind slammed them like a sledgehammer and the whirling threw snow into the air. Fay felt a deep vibration of magic; it wasn’t the strongest he’d ever felt, but it was enough to pull his attention sharply to the canal. Kurogane had thrown up an arm to block the wind, but he dropped it the moment Fay turned and put his hand on Souhi’s hilt.

A huge white sleigh drawn by enormous white draft horses pulled into view. Icicles hung from every edge, and the inside was a billow of white furs. Seated in the sleigh was a woman, pale as the snowflakes whirling around her. Her hair was long and black, studded with glinting flakes of ice. Her face was sharp and cruel, and her eyes were barely-there blue. She slowed the sleigh to a stop in the center of the canal, standing up and holding out her arms.

Out of the darkness came children. They walked onto the ice, heedless of the slip, and fell over and over before picking themselves up and continuing towards her. They all had glowing, rapt expressions on their faces; they were utterly enchanted by her. She laughed and the sound was like tinkling icicles. One by one, the children made it to her and climbed inside the sleigh, disappearing beneath the piles of furs.

“No!” Kurogane barked suddenly, causing Fay to jump. He tried to run forwards, but the snow had piled up around their knees with the Snow Queen’s arrival. Kurogane whipped around to shout at Fay; he was barely audible over the wind.

“Stop her!”

Fay looked at the queen, unable to figure out what Kurogane wanted him to do, but then he saw something that nearly stopped his heart:

Sakura was climbing in the sleigh. It wasn’t the queen he was supposed to stop. Fay looked around for a tree; he jumped up and grabbed a branch, swinging himself free of the snow drifts and onto the ice. He slipped, but it was a controlled fall that he turned into a roll that left him kneeling. But even as he stood, the sleigh was pulling away, far faster than he could ever hope of following. The only thing that kept him from panicking was the sight of Mokona’s ears poking out of the back of Sakura’s coat. At least if Mokona was there, she would be moderately safe.

Hopefully.

Foolishly, he acted without thinking: he traced a rune on his lips, gave a short sharp whistle and blew. The mark cut through the air and stuck to the back of Sakura’s hood. The sleigh than pulled out of sight completely and the bells faded away to snow-drift silence.

Fay crawled back to where Kurogane was still struggling to get free of the snow. The height seemed to be reducing as the queen left; Fay could see it melting down to a more reasonable ankle-deep. The ninja finally jerked a foot free just in time to try and plant it squarely in Fay’s face. 

“You let her get away!” he snarled. Fay pulled back just in time to save himself a broken nose; he was less than pleased with himself already.

“I noticed,” he snapped back, heaving himself to his feet now that he was clear of the icy canal. “If it helps, Mokona is still with her.”

“That doesn’t fucking help at all! What the fuck is the meatbun going to do, sing a stupid song?!” Kurogane seemed determined to chase after her anyway, lurching towards the canal with the single-minded focus of someone who had absolutely not thought their next plan of action through.

“Where are you going?” Fay demanded. “She’s already gone.”

“I’m going to fucking find her! And the kid! And the _fucking meatbun—_ “

A snowball hit the back of Kurogane’s head dead center. He froze, turning around with an expression of pure shock that anyone had _dared_ to throw one at him. He found himself facing not a local child, but Fay, who was calmly palming and packing snow into the perfect sphere.

“Kuro-rin,” he said with a pasted-on smile, “Have a little faith in me, would you?” 

Kurogane began stalking towards him, murder on his mind; Fay’s second snowball hit him squarely in the face, the broken chunks of snow falling off in clumps.

“I’m going to kill you,” Kurogane informed him, reaching out. Fay tried to step back, but got caught up in the snow; he tripped, falling into a snowbank and sinking quite deeply. Kurogane had intended to push him, but the sudden lack of surface to push sent him forward as well, falling on top of Fay with his knees on either side of Fay’s hips.

For a moment, they stared at each other in complete silence. Then Kurogane grabbed a handful of snow and unceremoniously smashed it in Fay’s face. Flailing in an attempt to bat him off, Fay felt his palm against Kurogane’s chin; another faceful of snow had him spluttering. Groping for his own ice-weapon, Fay threw snow back. They had deteriorated into a full-on snow fight, which was neither productive nor mature, but it was without a doubt the most fun thing Fay had done in _ages._

“You stupid—useless—airheaded—shitbrained—“ Kurogane spat between grinding snow into Fay’s face and hair. A rather powerful return knocked him sideways; Fay scrambled to get free. As Kurogane lurched towards him again, Fay held up both hands in surrender.

“I told you, have a little faith!” he said. “We can follow her!”

“ _How?!_ ” the ninja snapped. Fay rubbed his forehead; the snow had given him a decently strong cold-headache. It had been years since he had one, he forgot how distracting they were. He debated a lie, wondering if there was a way to sidestep the whole ‘magic’ thing; every time Kurogane caught him doing it, it took days to avoid talking about it enough to deter him. But he hadn’t been physically close enough to say he’d used a non-magic tracker.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he whistled again. The single note rang out far louder than a simple whistle could have. Immediately, there was a zipping light that flew from his lips like a bullet, tracing the route the sleigh had been going. It wasn’t a trail exactly, but it was obvious that by following the flash, they’d be led in the right direction. Kurogane watched the flash with a deeply suspicious expression.

“Do it again,” he demanded. Fay didn’t feel like arguing; another whistle sent the flare down the same path. Kurogane looked at him and opened his mouth. Fay cut him off.

“Don’t ask,” he said. “Just—don’t.”

“You’re tracking her?” he asked anyway, his scowl softening just a touch. “Like that?”

“Well, it’s not like she was dropping breadcrumbs,” Fay pointed out. “I suppose you had a better plan? Or were you just going to hop a ride yourself and hope no one noticed you?”

“I was going to break one of the runners,” Kurogane informed him. “Slow the thing down, make it leave a deeper track in the ice.” Fay stared at him, somewhat impressed with the plan, despite its failure point: he’d never catch up with the sleigh. Kurogane crossed his arms across his chest before adding pointedly, “Have a little faith.”

“Wow, Kuro-daddy is so smart!” Fay said, clapping his gloved hands and fixing an expression of surprise on his face. 

“Don’t make me choke you with snow again,” Kurogane warned him. “Let’s just focus on getting them. What the hell was she thinking anyway? Did you tell her—“

“I told her to stay put,” Fay said firmly. “I certainly didn’t think she’d jump out the window.”

“After the kid, she would,” Kurogane said with a sigh. “Those two would do anything for each other.”

“It’s sweet,” Fay said softly.

“It’s damn stupid,” Kurogane corrected. Then he sighed heavily before adding, “But we should have expected this.” Fay had nothing to say to that; he agreed, and was kicking himself for not considering it already. It was his fault Sakura felt confident enough to try it on her own in the first place. It was further his fault that she’d gotten away. 

“We should start after them,” Fay said. “The tracker should last, but depending on where they go, it will lose strength. If they pass through a lot of barriers, it will start to be stripped down.”

“It’ll wear off?”

“Not completely,” Fay said. “It’s too strong for that. But it will fade somewhat. And the less I have to activate it, the better.”

“You’re not going to tell me why this one doesn’t count?” Kurogane said dryly.

“Oh, it counts,” Fay said, bitterness seeping into his tone. “It definitely counts. Most unfortunately.” Kurogane frowned before looking away.

“...Good thinking.”

Kurogane was already walking away when the extremely rare praise filtered through. He was more pleased by it than he wanted to admit; it was just one more sign that he was letting himself get too comfortable with this. Especially with him. Fay brushed the last bit of snow that was still clinging to him and started after the ninja. The canal was an immediate problem. The trail they were following ran straight down the center, darting under bridges and swooping around curves of the frozen rivers.

“I hate to say it, but I think we’re going to need skates,” Fay said when the walkway along the edge of the ice meandered away from it. “Or a sleigh for hire, but that’s going to be harder to find.”

“Why bother hiring?” Kurogane said with a shrug. He pointed at a stable a few meters away. “We’ll just take them. It’s not like we’ll be coming back here.”

“Kuro-sama, that’s highly illegal,” Fay commented without disagreeing.

“Let them try and catch us,” Kurogane said carelessly. The stable was closed with an imposing looking padlock. Fay wished they had Mokona; lock picking was probably one of its special skills. Kurogane grabbed the lock and pulled on it, testing its strength. Fay tilted his head at it.

“When the queen came through, she essentially flash-froze the entire area,” he pointed out. “Sudden drops in temperature aren’t very good for—“

“I got it,” Kurogane interrupted. He drew Souhi and slammed the butt of the hilt down on the lock. It snapped, falling off the door with a clatter. The wooden beam was easy to lift clear, leaving nothing to stop them from opening the doors. Kurogane was about to step through, but Fay put a hand out to stop him. There was something off here; he couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but something was making him very uncomfortable. He pulled off his gloves, turning the left glove inside-out and putting it back on his right hand. The inside of the fingertips showed swirling glyphs; he extended his index finger into the air directly in front of them. The moment his glove touched the invisible barrier, it crackled with electricity, turning a vivid red and letting out a clear ringing tone. Fay pulled his hand back quickly and the barrier vanished.

“Well,” Fay said. “That’s quite rude.”

“We can’t walk through it, can we.” It was not a question.

“Not unless you’ve always dreamed of being a delicious, crispy-fried Kuro-age.”

“Have you always had those?” he said, nodding at the gloves. Fay shrugged; he only ever used them when quiet was important. They didn’t require any extra magic, since each rune had been placed permanently long before. Technically, anyone could use them. He wasn’t about to admit that though. Recognizing he wasn’t going to get an answer, Kurogane changed the subject. “Can it be broken?”

“Every barrier can be broken, Kuro-sama.”

“I know.” His abrupt silence indicated Fay had inadvertently stumbled on a sore spot. He had no desire to take it further.

“I can do it, but it will take a moment. And it will be slightly loud,” Fay said, turning his other glove inside out and putting it on his left hand. Kurogane stepped back to give the building a better look. 

“I hope the guy that owns this is a fucking idiot,” he muttered before making for a side window. He tapped the glass once before smashing it with his elbow. It was more than large enough to climb through, and more importantly, not guarded with any kind of barrier whatsoever. It was a careless oversight made by an owner no doubt with a limited budget. They still needed the door open, unless Kurogane knew how to get horses and a sleigh out the window. Fay cracked his knuckles and spread out his fingers.

Fay danced his fingertips across the surface of the barrier like they were the keys of a piano. Each rune served a different purpose, and by combining and playing them in a specific order, he could unwind whatever the spell was piece by piece. The melody jumped around through various clear ringing tones, playing out a song that echoed through the invisible surface of the barrier. Each time he touched it, the color flashed differently, each time slightly less saturated than before, until finally a quick succession of index finger, pinky, and both ring fingers caused a final flash of pure white; the barrier became solid like frosted glass, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces.

Fay removed his gloves, turned them right-side out and put them back on. By the time he’d finished, Kurogane was standing in the now open doorway.

“I found some horses,” he said, “and a sleigh.”

“Oh good,” Fay said with a grin. “It would have been so awkward if this was just a sheep barn.”

“Shut up and help me. Have you hooked up a sleigh before?”

“...You haven’t?”

“It doesn’t snow heavily enough in Nihon to be practical. A regular carriage is fine,” Kurogane explained, heading back into the darkened stable. The horses stuck their noses out of the stalls curiously. Kurogane paused every so often to touch one, turning its head or pulling on the halter so the animal stepped back and he could get a better look at its feet. Finding one in particular he seemed to like, he entered the stall.

“Don’t pick one that’s shod,” Fay advised as he approached the sleigh. “They manage the ice better without it.”

“They all have shoes,” Kurogane replied. “Kind of.” Fay looked at him in confusion. He elaborated, “It’s not a regular shoe. It looks like it’s kind of... rough? The tacks are sticking out.”

“I guess that helps the ice too,” Fay said. Did you find another one?” He examined the sleigh. Celes was cold; one of the first things he’d been taught when he got there was how to get around on skates, then sleighs. The one in front of him seemed essentially the same in design, if decorated differently. Kurogane appeared at the front with two large drafts, one black and one a deep chestnut brown. They both appeared quite calm being led by him; Fay hoped their serenity would continue as they were hitched up. It took the both of them to get it done, but not half as long as Fay had feared. They led the horses and sleigh out of the front door.

“Are you driving?” Kurogane asked, looking uncomfortable with the idea. Fay beamed at him.

“Of course! I need to escort Kuro-hime to the palace, don’t I?” He ducked the incoming swat and easily climbed in. Once they were both settled, Fay whistled again; the flash of light ran forward, through the center of the canal. The horses were surprisingly quick to respond considering they’d been sleeping not long before, and they set off at a clip.

“Are we just going to bravely storm the castle when we get there, or was there something else you had in mind?” Fay asked, steering them neatly under a series of bridges.

“Might put the kids at risk,” Kurogane said. “It’d be better if we could get them to come out.”

Fay highly doubted that was going to work, but he bit his tongue against the comment. They needed all the ideas they had; they were going in blind and both Sakura and Syaoran’s safety was in jeopardy. But his silence was noticed by his all-too-perceptive companion.

“If it’s a shitty plan, then say so,” Kurogane said. “We can’t afford to waste time.”

“It’s not—well,” Fay said carefully, “Considering none of the children she captured have ever come back, it’s unlikely they can leave. They’re all bewitched by the queen, so it may not even occur to them to leave, but Sakura isn’t actually under her influence. She has to be extremely careful not to stick out; trying to leave would draw a lot of attention to her.”

“Do you think she can do it?” Kurogane said. “Keep up the act, I mean.”

“I think she will do anything she has to do for Syaoran-kun,” Fay said seriously. “Her determination will hopefully be enough.”

They lapsed into silence again. The occasional whistle made sure they were still on track; they reached the end of one major canal and pulled off onto a smaller one, which in turn became a narrow path only noticeable because of the deeply-cut runner marks. The trees were low-hanging, but the queen’s sleigh was apparently considerably wider than theirs so Fay wasn’t too concerned. It was increasingly dark as the glow off the snow was swallowed by masses of thick pine trees. Fay had to whistled far more often just to stay on the winding, nearly-invisible trail; every time the sound left his lips, he felt more nervous than the last.

Finally, they broke through the trees to a sight that made Fay’s heart plummet. He stopped the sleigh as they both stared in awe at the enormous castle. The turrets and palisades soared into the sky with a stark outline against the black sky. It was white, and for a moment it appeared to be snow. Small flecks in the surface and a long, deeply cut stairway led to a huge gate.

“It’s marble,” Fay said, slightly breathless. “It’s all marble.”

“It’s fucking huge,” Kurogane said rather unnecessarily. “How many kids does she have?”

“No idea. It doesn’t matter,” Fay said. Kurogane looked at him sharply.

“...You’re going to leave them there, aren’t you?” he said. “Once we get the kid and the princess, you’ll leave all the rest of them.”

Fay said nothing; it was none of their business. Once they got Sakura and Syaoran, there was no reason to stay, let alone go on a rescue mission that would only endanger them further. There were no signs of a feather. Fay wanted out of this world as soon as possible.

“We have to get inside that,” he said instead of voicing these convictions. “Ideas?”

“Climb it?”

Fay put his face in his hand.

“It’s solid marble. Good luck with that.”

“I don’t hear you coming up with anything better,” Kurogane said irritably. “You figure it out.”

“I entered castles mostly through the front gate, like sensible people do,” Fay said, looking at the vast doors made of cold, unflinching snow. “I’ve never broken into one.”

“Exactly how many castles have you been in?” Kurogane retorted sharply.

_The tower’s stones were so rough at first, they shredded his fingertips. But they wore down, stained with the rot of flesh. The turret had Fay, if he could only get up. If he could only reach it. Fay. Fay! Fay!_

“I—“

_The staircase swooped upwards, a beautifully made illusion for purely aesthetic reasons. Ashura-o’s laugh when Fay asked why anyone cared what something looked like was delighted. The high-domed ceilings arched over the deep pool with Ashura-o sleeping at the very bottom._

“Hey,” Kurogane said, shaking his shoulder roughly. “Get it together.”

“Sorry,” Fay said, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Too many castles.” Kurogane snorted, but he didn’t push the issue any further.

“I broke into castles. A few, anyway.”

“And?”

“Well, most of them had paper walls,” he admitted. “Higher up. Not terribly difficult to get through if you get that far.”

“As strong as you are Kuro-sama, I don’t think even you can punch through solid marble,” Fay sighed, sitting straight again. Kurogane was climbing out of the sleigh and tying the horses to a tree. Fay, sure he was being ignored, climbed out as well. Kurogane turned on him, stepping quite close.

“Sound carries across ice easily,” he murmured. “Keep it down.” 

“I’m aware,” Fay said dryly.

“There’s another entrance,” Kurogane informed him. He was close enough for Fay to feel the heat of his breath as it puffed into the frozen air. 

“What?”

“When was the last time you saw a sleigh go up stairs?” he pointed out. “There’s got to be another way in.” Fay frowned—he had an excellent point. If there was a different way in, and they took it recently, then his tracking spell should lead them right to it. Whistling was risky, but it was better than wandering aimlessly around the castle. He blew, and the dart of light whipped around the corner of the nearest turret and out of sight. Fay started to walk but Kurogane caught his elbow.

“Weapon,” he murmured. Fay winced; everything he usually used was conveniently stored in Mokona’s jewel. He didn’t want to use magic, but what choice did he really have? There was nothing around them to use, and he couldn’t rely on hand-to-hand combat. He looked at the castle, looming and cold, struck with the weight of his guilt. Sakura was in there because of him; she wasn’t a part of his mess. Surely she deserved help, no matter what the risk to Fay was.

Kurogane’s hand on his elbow momentarily tugged, pulling his attention back.

“How risky is defensive stuff?” he murmured in Fay’s ear. “Your shields and shit.”

Fay looked at him in undisguised surprise. He hadn’t expected Kurogane to pick up on the problem so quickly, let alone try to work out a compromise that would minimize the damage using more magic would cause. Unfortunately it wasn’t going to make much of a difference either way.

“As risky as anything so far,” he said softly. “Size is more of a problem that type. And duration.”

“So defensive stuff is just as bad,” Kurogane confirmed. “Fucking fantastic.” He glared at the castle as if personally offended by it; he’d also apparently forgotten his hold on Fay’s elbow.

“Kurogane,” he said. The ninja whipped around so quickly if was as if Fay had shouted. He couldn’t meet his eyes; it felt far too much like letting Kurogane see inside him. He continued in the same soft voice. “I’ll do what needs to be done.” He felt the other man’s eyes on him, searching for some fragment of truth in him. Fay knew he deserved the scrutiny; he just hoped Kurogane found what he was looking for. He was telling the truth, but how was the ninja supposed to know what the truth sounded like coming from Fay? He said things seriously so infrequently Fay almost didn’t believe himself. Kurogane dropped his elbow.

“Let’s go,” he said. He walked away, feet crunching through the snow as Fay stared at his back. The drifts were deep this high up in the mountains; despite their best efforts, they’d be noisy. Once they left the cover of the trees, there’d be nothing to hide them. It was an incredibly uncomfortable thought. Letting Kurogane break a path, Fay carefully stepped in his footprints, avoiding leaving a second trail. They broke from the tree line, but Kurogane edged along it, taking a longer circle around the turret that kept them against the darker background of evergreens. As they rounded the corner, they found the second gate. It looked like a dark, heavy oak. Kurogane stopped, staring at the gate with a puzzled expression.

“Something’s wrong with it,” he commented. Fay looked at it too, examining the grain as best he could from a distance. It seemed perfectly fine to him. Kurogane rubbed at his eyes with one hand before looking at the door again; he growled. “Why’s it doing that?”

“Doing what?” Fay asked.

“Don’t you see it?”

“I see a gate,” Fay said. “Is there something else?”

“I can’t look at it!” Kurogane snapped. “My eyes won’t focus on it!” Fay frowned, looking back at the gate again. He had no trouble seeing it, but if Kurogane’s gaze kept sliding off it… Fay had a hunch. He closed his eyes and lifted a finger; he traced a blazing purple rune, _sight_ and _power_ on each eyelid before opening them again. This time, the gate wobbled in his vision, rippling like the surface of a pond. There were characters he didn’t entirely recognize lighting up and fading again, winking in and out like fireflies. Even though he didn’t know the spell’s particular elements, he recognized its purpose immediately. Anyone looking at it would immediately find themselves looking away; it would be impossible to look at it straight-on, let alone focus on it for an extended period. Fay closed his eyes again and traced a cancelling rune.

“There’s a spell on it,” he informed Kurogane, who had been watching him very closely. “It seems to be designed to keep people from being able to look at it for more than a few seconds.”

“But you can,” Kurogane pointed out. Fay shrugged. He wasn’t keen to elaborate, but Kurogane had crossed his arms like he did when he wasn’t going to let something go so easily. Fay winced.

“Generally speaking, I see through magic,” he said. “I have to make an effort if I want to see something as it’s made to appear.”

“Why?” Kurogane demanded. Not for the first time, Fay wished the ninja was just a little less persistent.

“It’s pretty standard for magic,” Fay said with another shrug. “Let’s say you cast an invisibility spell. If you couldn’t see through it, you’d immediately lose whatever you’d just done. We see through it out of natural necessity; things of equal or less power than you are essentially cancelled out.”

“What about things with more power than you?” Kurogane asked. “Can you still see through it?” Fay wasn’t sure why Kurogane wanted to know all of this now; surely there was a better time for this? Of course, if Kurogane brought it up later, Fay would do everything he could to dance away from the subject. Here, Kurogane had him somewhat trapped.

“Don’t we have other things to be worrying about just now?” Fay attempted lamely. Kurogane stared at him for a few moments longer before turning away in what Fay could only assume was disgust.

“You’re going to have to say this shit at some point,” Kurogane said with far less anger than Fay would have thought. “Don’t think you’re out of it.” He turned his attention back on the gate again, but the magic was clearly still getting to him. He looked away, and Fay realized he was trying to see it through his peripheral vision. On a less complex disguise spell, it would have been a sound strategy; Fay wondered if he’d experienced it before, or was simply intuitively experimenting. Before he had time to rethink it, Fay made an offer.

“I could make you see through it,” he suggested. Kurogane looked back at him with poorly veiled suspicion. 

“How the fuck would you do that?” he said, visibly unsettled.

“It’s not difficult,” Fay said, offering him a half-hearted smile. He held up a finger; the tip of it glowed bright purple and flickering like electricity. “A few little signs on each eyelid, then you’d be able to see through anything I can.” Kurogane looked at his hand, considering it. 

“Is it temporary?”

“It won’t wear off; I have to remove it.”

Kurogane still looked unsure; Fay couldn’t blame him. It only took being on the wrong side of magic once to turn someone against it; the list of people Fay would allow to put magic on him was extremely short. Kurogane had shown a surprisingly strong sense of magic despite being unable to use it; Fay was inclined to guess he had more experience with it than he would admit. Kurogane glanced back at the gate, but when his eyes skittered off it again, he whipped back to Fay with snarl.

“Do it,” he said sharply. “I hate this shit.”

Fay had not magicked very many people in his life, and the circumstances in which he had, he preferred not to think about for very long. When Kurogane stepped close, Fay felt something twist in his stomach. It was highly unlikely he’d make a mistake, but the thought that he _might_ was enough to make him nervous.

“Keep your eyes closed until I say so,” he instructed Kurogane. “Casting it on your eyes directly would probably blind you.”

“You’re not helping me with hating this,” Kurogane growled at him. Fay smiled, but Kurogane had already shut his eyes and didn’t see it.

“Faith, Kuro-wan,” Fay reminded him, tone light. Kurogane grumbled wordlessly in response. Fay lifted his finger up. Deftly, he traced out _cut, magic,_ and _sight_ on both of Kurogane’s eyelids. The signs glowed vibrantly for a second before fading away completely.

“Open,” Fay instructed. Kurogane obeyed instantly, before Fay had even stepped away. They were close enough for Fay to feel Kurogane’s warm breath ghosting across his face. For a moment, they were frozen in time, Kurogane’s eyes bearing down on him, locked together and unable to break away. 

“Blue,” Kurogane said, his voice lower than Fay could recall. His eyebrows knit in confusion as he maintained full eye contact; he saw something, something that he didn’t understand.

_Your eyes are your strength, Fay. Don’t forget._

It was too close; Fay threw up his smile like a barrier, snapping the strange tension between them. Kurogane pushed him away in disgust the moment the expression appeared; he turned to the gate with a burning determination. His mouth quirked up at the corner, just a hint of satisfaction to tell Fay he’d been successful in the spell. Kurogane started walking away without another word, leaving Fay to fall in behind him, step-to-step as they waded through the snow. The approached the gate now that they could both see it properly; Kurogane extended a hand towards it but froze just before he touched it.

“...Something wrong?” Fay questioned. Kurogane was looking at the wood as if had personally insulted him. He looked up to the very top, then back down again to the base. Abruptly he stomped backwards towards the tree line; Fay decided to stay put and examine the wood more carefully. He wanted to know why it was that this gate was so specifically guarded; if it had just been disguised to look like part of the wall, it would have been equally protected and far less obvious.

He felt the approach just soon enough to duck; a pinecone flew through the air where his head had just been. The moment it touched the gate, it burst into livid white-and-blue flames before falling to the snow as ash. Kurogane stomped back to his side, looking incredibly satisfied.

“Thought so,” he said. “It felt weird.” He turned to Fay, his expression darkening. “You said I’d be able to see this shit.”

Fay bent down, collecting some of the ash and rubbing it between the fingers of his gloves. Something was very wrong with it; he couldn’t quite figure out why.

“You’ll be able to see what I can see,” Fay corrected him. “I can’t see this. I would have stopped you if I could.”

“I can feel it though,” Kurogane protested. Fay shook his head. It wasn’t his doing; Kurogane’s bizarre sense for magic had nothing to do with him. “So it’s stronger than you. Whatever. How do I break it?”

Fay looked at the gate and tilted his head. It annoyed him that he hadn’t noticed this; what had the queen done to hide this feature? Was it just a clever trap? Disguise the gate just enough to draw attention to it, making people try to get closer, only to set them alight the moment they thought they’d overcome it? And how did she keep the children from accidentally activating it when she passed through on the sleigh? He knew it wasn’t a matter of being stronger—for various reasons, Fay could say with confidence that she wasn’t in fact stronger than him.

Behind this gate, Syaoran and Sakura were at the whims of an evil snow queen. It was his fault. He was wasting time trying to find a solution that didn’t involve the most obvious one; it was time to do what needed to be done.

“Kuro-pon, step back.”

“What?” Kurogane said, sounding surprised. “Why?” Fay looked over his shoulder, smiling.

“I’m going to knock,” he said brightly. Kurogane knew better than to continue the conversation, taking several steps backwards and glancing up at the gate.

Fay lifted a hand; the series of runes he sketched went faster than the eye could follow. The signs whirled around him in a circle, gaining speed as he added to it. When the final piece fitted into place, the ring took one more high-velocity spin around him before rising and lining up in a column directly in front of him. Fay flicked his hands at it, sending it flying forwards.

The fire-barrier shrieked, like glass being gouged into. The flames attempted to devour the signs, but they glowed without wavering.

The wind began to whip up aggressively around him; he felt snow building up at an impossible speed around his legs. Ice was creeping up around him, snaking up and curling around his limbs and quickly reaching for his throat. Clearly the gate had its own defense mechanisms. It was not going to be enough to stop him in the slightest.

He heard a shout; he was still able to turn his head enough to see Kurogane being encased in ice just like him; unlike Fay, Kurogane had likely never been exposed to flash-freezes. The idea that she would try to take Kurogane while Fay was distracted filled him with immediate rage. He felt his power surging; without the limiter on his back, it responded quickly to his emotional state. The spell he’d already cast reacted to the sudden increase of power it was drawing from, slamming onto the gate so hard that it sent a shockwave back, shattering the ice and blowing a huge crater out of the snow. The gate cracked straight down the center and burst open, the side without a hinge hitting the ground with a loud thud. 

The spell had had a taste of victory; it immediately began to fight against Fay’s control. He could feel its vicious desire for destruction growing. It had been crafted for cutting through things, but now it wanted to slice everything it touched to pieces. The rage in him had not cooled, and spell about to go wild and started doing what his magic always wanted to do: kill. To make it worse, the spell desperately wanted to find the source of the power on the gate; it dragged on him, trying to get to the queen herself.

Gritting his teeth, Fay clenched his extended hand and yanked it as if he was holding an invisible rope. The signs made a single jerk backwards before slowly pulling against him again. He felt the panic rising in his throat, drowning out the anger, as he imagined what this would do if it fully broke away; as his fear increased, his grip on it weakened. It had been far too long since he used his magic without a limiter in place. The signs crackled with electricity and delight, sensing his impending failure. Any moment now, he’d break.

“Calm the fuck down, idiot,” Kurogane’s voice said directly into his ear. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “You’ve got it.”

For one second, everything stopped moving. Fay felt his grip settle; the spell responded to his call again, almost meekly snaking backwards until it hovered in the air in front of him. He retraced each sign, but backwards, unwriting it and letting the power pull back. When the last sigil was undone, Fay let his arm fall. He’d been forced to take in everything he’d put out, momentarily overwhelming his senses. His knees buckled suddenly; Kurogane caught him before he fully hit the ground. It took a few moments for Fay to get his feet back under him and to push up with his own strength; it took a few more for the anger and fear to settle and fade. Once Fay seemed steady, Kurogane retreated a few steps, cautiously silent.

Fay looked at his own hand; what would have happened if he lost control?

“Well, you broke the damn door,” Kurogane said. “That’s something.”

“I almost—“

“Stop,” Kurogane cut him off roughly. “Don’t even go there. It’s a waste of fucking energy.” He stormed forwards, passing Fay and making for the now gaping space where the gate used to be. As he passed, Fay realized there was a cut on his face, right across the bridge of his nose with a trail of half-frozen blood running down his cheek.

“Did I do that?” Fay asked. Kurogane froze, shoulders hunching guiltily.

“Ice did it.”

“Did something _I did_ cause the ice to do it?” Fay clarified with a snap.

“You blew it up,” Kurogane said irritably. “Stuff goes everywhere when shit blows up. It’s not like you stabbed me in the face. I would have punched you if you had.”

“I’m sorry.”

A pause.

“I know. Shut up.”

Kurogane marched through the gate without looking back. Fay followed him in silence, stepping over the chunks of shattered wood littering what appeared to be a marbled courtyard. There was no ice inside, despite it being open to the air; it was warm, like a gentle early spring morning. There were stairs leading to another door, but this one was frosted glass and not so much as locked. They opened it easily, peering down the dark corridor it opened on to. Fay whistled; his tracker flashed down the hall and through a large arch. They followed it on silent feet; Kurogane naturally had a light step, and Fay took care to let his boots fall softly.

“Where the hell are they?” Kurogane hissed under his breath. “There’s supposed to be a shit ton of kids here, right? So where are they?”

“This place is enormous,” Fay reminded him. “They could be spread out.”

“But the princess is that way?”

“Apparently.”

They followed the darting light to a huge atrium; hiding in a shadow next to the opening, they looked into the space. Seated in a huge glass throne that reached the ceiling and glinted with thousands of tiny stones was the woman they’d seen in the sleigh; she was inhumanly beautiful to such a degree she looked less like a person and more like something else entirely. There was a strange quality to her that made the hair on the back of Fay’s neck stand up. Something about her was just… wrong.

Scattered around the atrium were children. Some of them had piles of stone blocks in front of them, letters carved into them, but they stacked them with a sluggish lack of interest. Most of the children were just sitting and staring blankly into empty space. They were all pale, with blue lips and fingers, clothed in whatever they’d been wearing when they snuck away. Scanning the room, Fay spotted Sakura on the other side of the room. She was stacking blocks too, but she wasn’t even looking at them; she was looking at the queen. More precisely, she was looking at the boy seated near the queen’s feet, staring at her in open adoration: Syaoran.

Fay tapped Kurogane on the shoulder and pointed at Sakura. The ninja immediately started forward, but Fay pulled him back.

“You’ll reveal her,” Fay whispered. “No one has seen her yet.”

“She needs help,” Kurogane hissed back.

“Not yet,” Fay repeated. “She’s fine right now.” He took another glance; Sakura had all her winter clothes on, unlike most of the other children. She wasn’t blue and shivering, but she did seem tired. Considering how little sleep she’d had in the past few days, Fay wasn’t surprised. He wondered if there was a safe way to get her attention. Before he had time to think of anything, he saw Mokona’s head peek out from Sakura’s hood. It glanced around before looking directly at Fay and Kurogane and waving a paw. Ducking back down again, it must had told Sakura what it saw, because her eyes jumped up sharply, meeting theirs. Her expression immediately hardened into one of firm determination; she shook her head in a tiny, almost imperceptible movement.

_Not yet._

“Did you teach her to be a stubborn—fool too?” Kurogane growled dryly substituting a less rude word. Fay smiled at him, amused that he would go to the effort of not insulting her, even when she wasn’t close enough to hear.

“I taught her not to get caught,” he explained. “She was pretty determined before that already.”

Fay looked over at Syaoran; he was blue, but at least he wasn’t in his pajamas like more than half of the children in the room. He didn’t have a warm coat like Sakura, but at least he wasn’t risking frostbite. The queen was constantly scanning the room, watching the children with an icy twist of her mouth that may have been a smile. Syaoran wasn’t the only kid at her feet; two girls and another boy were close by, and one of the girls had her head pillowed in the queen’s lap. Every so often the queen would stroke her hair almost lovingly. 

“Why does she get them?” Kurogane murmured. “Does she enchant them or something?”

“It’s hard to say,” Fay replied, unsure. “It may be a natural result of the mirror’s effects. It might be something else.”

“It’s got to be the damn mirror,” Kurogane said. “The kid isn’t dumb enough to fall for her.”

“Especially not considering how he feels about Sakura-chan,” Fay agreed. Syaoran was looking at the monstrous queen like she was the center of his world, but there was no warmth in it. The soft fondness and gentle affection he normally showed Sakura was absent, as was the fierce protectiveness. Maybe he was drawn to the queen, but he didn’t love her half as much as he clearly loved Sakura. It gave Fay some hope that the Syaoran they were seeing hadn’t replaced the Syaoran they knew.

“We just need to defeat her, right?” Kurogane said, clearly chewing at the bit to attack. Fay hummed, unsure. 

“Does she control the mirror?” he pointed out. “We don’t really know for sure. So far it seems like she just… collects them. They start behaving strangely long before then.”

“But it’s her mirror,” Kurogane insisted. “Defeating her would make it harmless.”

“I doubt it,” Fay said. When Kurogane kept staring at him, he reluctantly elaborated. “When you make something with magic, done correctly, it continues to be magic regardless of whether the creator still exists. Things that directly and constantly feed off the caster stop working when cut off; it’s a risky trick because it can drain you. But something that is made and then separated doesn’t usually change.” He pictured Chii’s sweet face and the happiness he felt knowing that she’d be able to stay by his brother’s side when he himself couldn’t. 

“Fantastic,” Kurogane growled. “Does shit you make keep going?”

“I haven’t made anything in a very long time,” Fay said carefully.

“You didn’t answer,” Kurogane said sharply; Fay wished for the thousandth time that he didn’t listen so _carefully._

“They’ll survive me,” Fay said shortly. “Indefinitely.” Kurogane looked pleased; it was a strange thing to see directed at him, and filled him with several conflicting emotions he preferred not to think about or address. Kurogane was glaring at the queen again, but this time he had his hand on Souhi’s hilt. Fay looked nervously at her, then Sakura, then back again. Sakura’s expression worried him. She looked at the queen somewhat openly, despite being visually set apart from the other children. She didn’t seem afraid, only angry; it was almost as if she didn’t see the queen as a threat. 

Or as a human.

Fay stepped in front of Kurogane and out into the open atrium. The ninja shot out a hand to pull him back, but Fay avoided it and walked calmly down the center of the room until he was standing in front of the queen herself. He smiled at her, an expression as cold and hollow as her. She stared at him, but made no move to attack; her lips quirked up in a smile, and she continued petting the hair of the girl in her lap.

“Pardon me,” Fay said lightly. “I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a mix-up.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Two companions of ours seem to have ended up here, but it was in error. I apologize for the inconvenience; we’ll just be taking them back now.” His hands were loose at his sides, the picture of casual conversation.

She shook her head at him; she smiled wide, showing viciously pointed teeth between her blood-red lips. She tipped her head upwards to let the light catch her eyes; they changed from their nearly-colorless blue to solid black irises with no pupils. A laugh of some kind left her body, tinkling like icicles falling. The girl in her lap lifted her head to allow the queen to stand; she was approximately seven feet tall, with unnaturally long, white limbs. Syaoran looked up at her in a daze from the side of the dais. There was no longer any doubt: she was nothing close to human.

“Oh my,” Fay said mildly as she towered over him. “This explains some things.”

“Fay-san!” Sakura shouted across the room, leaping to her feet. “Watch out!”

The queen’s hand had begun to morph into razor sharp blades at the end of her arm; she pulled it back in order to stab with more force, but Fay was considerably faster to act. He sketched out the runes for the barrier lightning-quick, throwing up the shield in front of Sakura so fast she slammed into it, dropping to the floor. The monster queen rounded on him with her other hand, but he knew he wasn’t fast enough to shield himself without dropping the one in front of Sakura. He felt, rather than saw, Kurogane move; the ninja was beside him in a heartbeat, Souhi’s gleaming steel cutting off the clawed hand like it was made of the softest snow. It shattered into a million icy pieces when it hit the marble floor. The queen shrieked, withdrawing her arms. None of the children so much as blinked.

“So you can do it fast when it’s not _you?!_ ” Kurogane snarled at him. “Are you fucking _stupid?_ ”

Sakura was covered in what was essentially a clear, solid bubble. She pounded on it with one hand, shouting, but no sound escaped. It would not break so long as Fay was alive; a few more signs traced in the air flew over to rotate around the bubble, cutting it off from him. Now it would not break even _if_ he died.

There was no point wasting his power on something as worthless as himself, after all.

The queen lurched; her knife-fingers were growing back, like highly-accelerated icicles. She turned her black eyes on Kurogane, fully distracted from Sakura. She lunged with both hands, each finger long and sharp heading directly for Kurogane. Fay watched her approach almost in slow-motion; no matter how many times he counted, her ten blades outnumbered Kurogane’s one, and even if he managed to block an entire hand, that still left him completely at the mercy of the second one.

How many more people was he going to see die?

The next shield went up even faster; Souhi’s blade glanced off it, forcing Kurogane to take a step back to maintain his balance. Fay gestured broadly; he had no time for complex, delicate sigils anymore. Instead, he focused on large, powerful signs that could be placed in the air and released independently. One solid mark stayed in front, feeding the second barrier constantly with Fay’s power. Another he held forward before each palm, ready to send them forward at a moment’s notice. The temperature in the room dropped lower with every passing second and ice began to form on every surface, wrapping around Fay’s ankles presumably with the intention of restricting him. 

Fay was not smiling. Kurogane was beside him, holding Souhi at the ready, looking at him with an expression Fay had only rarely seen, and never successfully identified. 

“That was fast,” he commented, betraying no single emotion in his tone.

“It’s not for me,” Fay replied easily. 

“So it’s for me?” Kurogane said, sounding less than pleased by it.

“I may get injured here,” Fay said, quirking up his mouth in a mostly-genuine smile. “You said it yourself, remember? If I break my neck, you’re the one that has to carry me in your big, strong arms.”

“Pretty sure I said ‘carry your sorry ass around’,” Kurogane corrected. 

“So pedantic, Kuro-sama,” Fay said. “Surely there are other things to worry about just now?”

As if waiting for their attention to waver, the queen struck again, slamming her hands against the barrier. It didn’t waver, but Fay was beginning to feel like they were at an impasse. Either he held the barrier in place indefinitely, hopefully letting the queen wear herself out attempting to break through, or he let it drop so Kurogane could fight her directly and hope that he could manage being attacked from several angles and ten blades at once.

“Drop the barrier,” Kurogane said, eyes glued on the queen. Fay hesitated; Kurogane scowled at him. “Either make it so I can get at her, or do it yourself! You’re in the fight now; make up your damn mind already!”

Reluctantly, Fay released the barrier. Kurogane sprang into action, neatly slicing one hand off again before lunging for the other. He could cut them, but the first hand was already growing back. Fay just hoped Kurogane could keep it up until they figured out how to defeat her. He ran to Sakura, releasing her bubble with a touch. She attempted to run past him, presumably to Syaoran, but he caught her easily and held her back.

“It’s not safe yet,” Fay told her.

“Let me go!” Sakura pleaded. “I need to get to him!”

“If you get hurt, Syaoran-kun will never forgive us,” Fay said. “I’m sorry.” She deflated, the fight running out of her at once. Mokona popped out of her hood.

“Fay!” it declared, “Mokona feels a feather!”

“What!?” Fay said, staring at it. “Where?”

“Hmm,” Mokona said. “It’s… everywhere.”

“Moko-chan felt it as soon as we arrived here, but we don’t know where it is,” Sakura explained. “It’s just kind of generally in this room somewhere.”

Fay felt the attack coming just before it hit. There was no time to revive the barrier he’d released, or throw up a new one. He didn’t even have time to turn around. All he could do was pull Sakura down and hope whatever struck him didn’t go through his body completely and touch her. The spear that went into his back was the coldest thing he’d ever felt; the freeze rolled its way down his limbs and up his spine, radiating from the initial hit rapidly. Sakura screamed the moment she realized what had happened as Fay’s body slumped over her. Kurogane shouted something as well, but it barely filtered into his mind. Mokona was shouting his name, but everything was fading into a foggy cloud, icing over. The pain became a deep-bone ache throughout his entire body, and his heart was a solid brick in his chest.

Fay saw his arms around Sakura, and pulled them back. Her tears and panic were affecting him less and less with every passing second; he looked into her big, grass-green eyes and dimly noticed he felt absolutely nothing. Mokona was annoying him with its shrieking; he picked the creature up by one ear, dangling it even as it cried out in pain.

“Shut up,” he told it flatly. Then he threw it; he hoped it hit the wall. Sakura had stopped screaming and was inside looking at him in pure, unrestrained horror. She was so weak. Fay stood up and turned his back on her. So what if she got hit? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Everything was so boring and pointless. Casually, Fay walked back to where the queen and Kurogane were still fighting; Kurogane’s persistence was so annoying. Didn’t he realize she would never get tired? He didn’t even know how to kill her. He just kept pointlessly cutting off her hands, never once having time to strike a blow anywhere that might actually harm her. Fay watched for a few minutes; Kurogane was starting to struggle. The hands seemed to be growing faster; one finger sliced across his shoulder while another clipped him above one eye. 

What a waste of energy. What a waste of time.

Sakura had run up behind him; she was pulling on his arm, pleading with him again. He barely heard her; her voice was so annoying. Every time he pulled his arm free of her, she grabbed it again, holding on as tightly as she could. She kept shouting ‘Fay’, over and over, but he refused to respond to it. It wasn’t even his _name_. He started walking closer to the fight, dragging Sakura with him as she refused to let him go. The closer Fay got to the queen, the more mesmerizing she was; he hadn’t noticed how beautiful her hair was, or how bright and full her lips were. She was crisp and sharp, just like broken ice. Haunting, untouchable, and the coldest part of winter.

Syaoran was still sitting on the stairs leading to the throne, staring up at her without any emotion on his face. Kurogane would call to him every time he got close, but Syaoran wasn’t listening. Fay approached him, looking at the boy impassively. Why were they even looking for him? He was the same boring kid he’d always been. It was all so much effort, and for what? Just one more liability? One more thing he had to take care of? What a waste. 

The queen shrieked; Fay, Syaoran, and every other child in the room looked up at her. Kurogane had finally struck a desperate blow, slicing off an arm cleanly at the shoulder. It didn’t seem to be growing back; it was bleeding, but the blood was clear water that immediately froze over. He didn’t care what she was; it didn’t even matter. He just wanted to look at her, forever. She’d never thaw; she’d be beautiful for eternity.

The queen locked eyes with him, and her pointed smile widened. She changed targets, lunging towards Fay. He briefly considered dodging before deciding it was too much effort. This would probably kill him; wasn’t that basically what he wanted anyway? It would certainly save him from this overwhelming sense of boredom. He looked at Kurogane as the queen reached for him; there was something odd on Kurogane’s face, underneath the blood coming from his eyebrow. When the queen’s second icy spear pierced Fay’s chest from the front, he felt nothing at all. He looked down at it lodged in his body and watched as his blood crystalized into red diamonds, glinting in the light. He was falling, down down down, hitting the marble floor with his knees before buckling completely and landing on his side. Sakura knelt over him, her hands setting on the spear, but she wasn’t strong enough to remove it. Her back was turned to the queen, so she didn’t see the spear heading straight for her.

Something in Fay almost surfaced. Almost.

The spear hit flesh, but it wasn’t Sakura’s; the spear had completely penetrated Syaoran’s shoulder as he stood, arms outstretched, standing between Sakura and the queen. He dropped almost as fast as Fay had, falling back onto Sakura. She caught him, clinging to his upper body.

“ _Syaoran-kun!_ ” she wailed. Fay saw Kurogane hesitate, his attention flickering just a second too long. He barely missed being impaled by another spear; Fay saw for the first time that the queen was spitting them from between her beautiful blood-red lips. Kurogane saw an opening when she pulled back to fire another icy bolt at Sakura; he leaped forwards and drove Souhi through her throat, burying the sword up to the hilt. The queen’s shriek turned into a gargle; without any warning, she shattered into a million chunks of ice, blowing pieces across the entire room. Fay wondered if he should care she was dead. After a moment’s thought, he found he didn’t care at all. He was caring less and less about everything as his blood froze in his veins.

Someone came to stand over him; dimly, Fay realized it was Kurogane. Sakura was sobbing, rocking Syaoran in her arms. Kurogane wrenched the spear in Fay’s chest free, exposing a deep hole. He took off his cloak and wadded it up, pressing it against the sluggish wound. Sakura choked something out that made Kurogane frown. He lifted Fay’s torso up like he weighed nothing; he was probably looking for the other wound. When he found it, he grimaced. It was such an ugly expression. It disgusted Fay.

“Syaoran-kun, _please_ ,” Sakura begged the boy in her arms. “Please, please! Wake up! I’m sorry I annoy you. I’m sorry you’re always getting hurt for me. I’m sorry I’m useless. But please, don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me alone!”

Syaoran raised a shaky hand; the fingertips were blue as they brushed against her cheek. Her tears dripped onto his face as she crouched over him, sobbing. Fay saw him blink slowly. 

“Snap out of it, you fucking idiot!” Kurogane was saying, still pressing his cloak to Fay’s bigger injury. “Are you just going to die like this? So easily? Don’t you have any fucking pride?!” His anger was strange; it didn’t sound right. He wasn’t roaring. “If you fucking die, I swear to god, I will drag your sorry corpse all the way back to your fucking ice world and throw you in the first lake I fucking see! _Get up!_ ”

A bright light was growing from Syaoran’s face. His eyes were both wide open as Sakura cried over him; suddenly a flickering something rose from one eye into the air, floating as delicately as a snowflake. Sakura stared at it in wonder; Syaoran stirred in her lap and she looked down.

“Princess,” Syaoran said softly. He could have whispered it and everyone would have heard; aside from the noise the girl and the ninja were making, the room was a silent as a grave. Syaoran raised his hand again, but this time his fingers were pink. When he cupped her cheek, she put one hand over his and smiled at him. It was the warmest thing Fay had ever seen.

The glowing fragment fluttered overhead, but there were other pieces moving towards it. Fay saw one of the children look up, eyes wide, and another bright light left his eye and joined the one in front of Sakura. One by one, the light grew brighter and brighter, collecting into a shape that was almost familiar.

All of this Fay observed with a flat, icy look. Nothing touched him. Nothing penetrated the fog in his mind. Nothing mattered to him at all. He was probably dying by now, but he just didn’t care anymore. Kurogane could do whatever he wanted; Fay had already resigned himself to the idea of dying here. Kurogane was talking again; Fay had to focus to hear him. It was almost too much effort.

“You saved her,” Kurogane said. Fay thought he sounded desperate now; it was kind of pathetic. “You saved the girl, twice. She’s fine. The kid is fine. You helped someone. If you would just fucking get up, you’d see that for _once_ in your fucking _life_ you _did something good_.”

_Father was dead. Mother was dead. Fay was dead. Valeria was dead. Celes was dead. Ashura-o wanted to be dead too. Yuui never saved anyone. He never helped. Everything was worse for him being in it. There was no way to change his cursed fate._

_But he had saved Sakura._

He saved Sakura. He wanted to keep her safe, and she was. He did it.

The blood on Kurogane’s brow landed on his chest. The instant it hit, he felt a warmth spreading across him and seeping into his very bones. He felt the crunch of ice in his joints thaw; the wound on his back throbbed painfully but the one on his front was closing up, healing and knitting back together rapidly as if there had never been an injury at all. The fog in Fay’s mind faded away and left him looking at Kurogane’s face with absolutely no mask whatsoever between them.

“I... helped?” he whispered, utterly terrified of the answer.

“For once, yeah,” Kurogane said, staring into Fay’s eyes. There was something there, hovering just behind his blood-red eyes; it was hot, burning. It was anger, but something else as well.

“She’s safe?”

“Aside from being covered in _your_ blood, she’s fucking fantastic.” He paused; Fay could feel how open his face was, but he didn’t have the strength to hold anything back. He was utterly helpless to hide. His self-loathing must have been on full display, because Kurogane continued.

“I don’t give a shit about what you did before,” Kurogane informed him. “But you didn’t fuck today up. That’s good enough.” 

Fay lifted one hand shakily to cover his face; he needed to cover the tears streaming down his cheeks. Kurogane lifted his cloak carefully, checking to see that Fay indeed had stopped bleeding out. A glowing light rose out of Fay’s chest to join the collection in front of Sakura; when it met, there was a bigger flash. All the fragments collected into a beautiful silver-edged mirror. 

Mokona appeared, hiding behind Sakura and peering at Fay with concern.

“Fay?” it asked quietly. Kurogane helped him to sit up, bracing Fay’s torso on his raised knee. Fay held out a hand towards the creature, guilt stabbing him deeply.

“Mokona,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

“Are you better now?” Mokona asked nervously.

“I think so,” Fay said. Mokona seemed to consider it for a moment before coming forward and jumping onto Fay’s chest and hugging his face with its little paws.

“Scary!” Mokona wailed. “Fay was so scary, Mokona didn’t know what to do!”

“I know,” Fay said. “I would have been scared too.” Before he could offer more apologies however, Mokona’s eyes popped open and Syaoran called out, “Look!”

The mirror was glowing; slowly, a beautiful feather emerged from the glass. The moment it was free, the mirror cracked and fell to the ground, utterly empty of power. The feather floated to Sakura and was absorbed; she collapsed across Syaoran, who was carefully trying to sit up without dislodging her. He smiled weakly at Fay and Kurogane.

“I’m sorry Fay-san, Kurogane-san,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know what came over me.” Kurogane answered before Fay had a chance to.

“Forget it,” he said. “It wasn’t you. We all knew it.” Syaoran looked relieved to be so quickly forgiven; Fay smiled at him warmly and nodded, assuring the boy Kurogane spoke for both of them.

“I guess that explains the door,” Kurogane said. “The feather was making everything weird.”

“And enchanting the children,” Fay agreed. “The queen may have just… taken advantage of the situation.”

“She wasn’t hurting them, was she?” Kurogane asked, looking at the throne. “She just… collected them. Like toys.”

“Or pets,” Fay agreed. “A poor coincidence of events.” Neither of them had anything immediately to add; it was difficult to reconcile the destruction and violence with what was, it seemed, essentially an accident.

“I think we should leave now, if you can Mokona,” Fay said, wincing as he sat up straighter with his own power. “I’d rather not linger here.”

“And the other kids?” Kurogane said, glancing around the room. The other children had all fainted when their glass fragments were removed; slowly they were sitting up and looking around themselves in confusion.

“Everyone!” Mokona shouted, louder than any tiny creature had a right to be, “Your families are waiting for you in the village!”

“I know how to get down from here,” the girl who had had her head in the queen’s lap said. “I was paying attention when we came.”

“Please lead everyone back with you!” Mokona said. The girl nodded, standing up. Fay was relieved to see she was older, in her late teens. She would be able to guide them back; it was obvious in the set of her shoulders that she was a tough one.

“Now let’s get the fuck out of here,” Kurogane growled. Syaoran stood and picked Sakura up in his arms; Kurogane grabbed Fay’s arm and slung it over his shoulder without a word.

“Thank you,” Fay said very quietly. “And—“

“You’re sorry,” Kurogane interrupted him. “I know.”

“Thanks for not slinging my body in a lake,” Fay added lightly, smiling.

“Just because I haven’t done it yet doesn’t mean I won’t,” Kurogane shot back, a hint of a smile on his face. “Not making any promises.”

As Mokona’s swirls rose around them to carry them to the next world, Fay wasn’t looking at the ice and marble around them, or the look on Syaoran’s face as he held Sakura protectively; he was looking at Kurogane. The cuts on his face and bloodstains on his other shoulder didn’t look comfortable; they’d have to check everyone in the next world. But just for a moment, Kurogane turned and looked at Fay, holding his gaze firmly, red to blue. 

And for just a heartbeat, he smiled.

Fay had no trouble whatsoever smiling back; he didn’t even think to fake it.

“I hope the next world is made of marshmallows,” Fay said.

“I hope you’re _allergic_ to marshmallows,” Kurogane said. Fay patted the back of his head with the hand slung across Kurogane’s shoulders, earning himself a warning growl. It didn’t worry him; he had a pretty good feeling that as long as they were going on this journey together, Kurogane wasn’t going anywhere without him.


End file.
